Screaming Lullaby
by poisonanon
Summary: Raven Annabelle moves to a small remote town with her single mother to a place that doesn't appear on a map, and attends the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. She soon learns that screaming is just another form of a lullaby.
1. Alone In My Little World

Chapter 1 Alone In My Little World

Sometime you have to wonder about the world around you. You had to test its boundaries. You had to look back at the little moments that saved your life. Sometimes you just don't have the time to question the fucking reality rules. You just had to get up and run for your goddamn life and never look back.

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled up, the light pitter-patter of rain hitting our car. Ii would miss this place. Miss the tightly packed homes, friendly waves from friends and neighbors. I would miss walking to Sainsbury's with Lyra and Morgan. I would miss trying to sneak Barcardi Breezers into our local Grammer school so we could get kicked out. Would miss laughing at the Year Eights. I would miss everything in my small flat I called home, on Tottenham Court Road.

But we were moving to America, my mother and I, leaving Britain to go to America. In a small town that doesn't show up on the map. My mother wanted nature, so that's where we were going. My mother was American. Her name was Caterina Madison. She liked to think of herself as a laid-back hippie type just because my dad and her went to a couple of festivals when they were at the university. She moved to London during her study abroad trip. She left my dad and took me with her, unknowingly. I bore his name, Davis. Raven Annabelle Davis. My parents were obsessed with Edgar Allen Poe back then.

So now, while we were moving to a town that I didn't know the name of, my mom was staying at our new house to decorate, and I was being shipped off to the local camp in town for the summer. Camp Crystal Lake.

I suppose if I learned anything from this trip (besides that you must always save the funny looking kids and never trust people to save your life) its that life takes funny turns when you're not looking.

This place, with Sears looking Catalogue kids, was to be my new home for the next two months in this strange new world. I liked the outdoors, I must admit, and this place was beautiful. It shined brightly here, and I basked in the warm glow, trying to ignore the American teenagers that were staring at me.

I was what you might call a social disease. I was weird, yeah, but I didn't look THAT bad. Apart from my obvious skinny-ness, and flat chest (I was the only sixteen year old girl at me Grammer school that didn't need to wear a bra) and pale skin, I wasn't that bad looking. I was pretty tall for my age, and I wished I had more curves, but I was OK. I had small lips, a proportioned nose, and big grey-green eyes. Lyra always told me I had cute, fluffy boy lashes, but I thought that they were just long. My hair was long and golden-red, and it spiraled in ringlets. Golden freckles sprinkled across my nose and upper cheeks.

I guess if I dressed properly, I wouldn't receive stares. I don't think I've ever owned a piece of bright colored clothing, apart from my green tutu, different shades of converse all-stars, and a couple of tanks and socks. Other than that, it was mostly black. Black jackets and skinny jeans, shirts and overalls, spider net stockings and eye shadow, black t-shirts and black shirts with cartoons, black long-sleeves, and dark doc martins. Everything was black. What could I say? It was my favorite color. People at home never laughed at me because of it, sure I'd get a couple old granny's give me cold, dirty looks, but it was just normal for me.

These people were giggling, pointing, and laughing at me, and some uttered words I've never heard applied to me before.

Emo. Goth.

Punker.

Freak.

Weirdo.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But I wasn't going to let them know that. Instead, I walked to the cabin that was assigned to me, unpacked my things, turned on my iPod and drifted off to me screaming lullabies.

Sun poured in from my window and my stomach growled. My nose smelled dust and dirt, and I sneezed. Making a mental note of asking where the cleaning supplies was, I clumsily dressed myself in fresh clothes and walked outside. Something red caught my eye, and saw that someone had wrote with red paint on my door in hurried writing: Go Back to the Woods where you belong Monster Girl!

Little Fucks! They didn't even know me and already they had judged. They wanted a Monster did they? Well, they would get one! I left the comment on the door, thinking it a nice touch. Now everyone would know that the Monster Girl lived here.

The cafeteria was cramped and smelly, and the counselors were serving something

close to what looked like road kill. I grabbed a muffin and set off to sit by myself.

It was not five minutes until gorgeous American boy came to sit in front of me. He dressed in clothes that struck me as rich, and he had an arrogant smile. I disliked him on sight.

"Hey," he said to me, 'you're not from around here."

I nodded, even though it wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"My name's Dean," he said, "Dean Mitchell. What's yours?"

I gave him a small deadly stare, that stated, 'Oh, like you care,' but I gave up and sighed, "Raven Davis. And you can tell your mates behind you to stop giggling like a bunch of Year Thirteens?"

He turned to look at them and they quieted, but some of them still had a few snickers plastered on their faces.

I gave Dean a hardened look, "What do you want anyway?"

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"I bit my answer out, "Tottenham Court Road, London. Are you done with Twenty Questions Love? Cause if you are, I'd like to get back to my muffin."

He frowned, "Why are you being so defensive? I'm just trying to be friendly, Britain."

I snapped, "I don't know, why don't you tell me who wrote that lovely Welcome note on my door?"

He looked sincerely guilty, "It was one of my friend's girlfriends. It was just a joke. Honest, we meant no harm."

He smiled a crooked smile, and that did it for me.

I stood up abruptly snarling at him, "Yeah, that's really interesting," and he looked shocked, "And you can tell your mates you lost your bet. I know how it works. I'm not stupid so tell me how much money were you going to get for shagging the Monster Girl, huh?"

He seemed paralyzed, and his mouth was moving up and down with no words coming out, like a fish out of water. I was right, and he knew I was right. He was scamming on me, flirting to get some quid for scoring with the untouchable Goth. What fucking ever!

"Lame. You're so Lame," I hissed and flounced away, and I distinctly heard him say, 'bitch,' but I didn't care. I just wanted to be alone.

At the edge of the woods, after you walked in a little, there was a crude, home-made fence, with a sign that read, "Keep Out. Danger."

The fence was so badly made I assumed a couple of kids made it to scare people. I nimbly hopped on a rock and climber over. The woods were pretty here. The tall, thick trees covering the sky so completely, the woods seemed dark. I wanted to stay in here forever, away from Snobby kids, away from the cheery false smiles on the counselor's faces (who were barely older that me) and away from anything that reminded me that I was here in this alien place that I'm forced to call home.

I walked further into the woods, and found a pile of fresh, fallen green leaves. I buried myself in them and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke abruptly when I heard the crunch of leaves. I fought off the urge to cry out, "Who's there?" but I held my tongue. Millions of teenage girls either got killed or raped in horror movies when they dumbly uttered that fate-full question. As if the boogieman or a pervert would answer that! I crouched behind a fallen tree, waiting. I could be patient when I wanted to be, but my heart was beating inside of me so fast. Someone grabbed my shoulders and I jumped up and shrieked, holding my fists up in a protective stance, ready to punch out the enemy. A lanky boy with amber-chocolate brown hair and beautiful blue eyes held out his hands before him, "Whoa, calm down! It's only me, my name is Tripp, what's yours?"


	2. Hollow Inside

Chapter 2 Hollow Inside

He just wanted to be alone….

Why couldn't they see that? He just wanted to be alone with his mother, but they just kept coming. Disturbing the silence of alone. Doing bad things where he could see them. It angered him. Made him furious. He was a good boy, and he was surrounded by bad people. He hated it. Wanted nothing to do with it. He had to do what he had to do to make his mother stop screaming, to get rid of the bad people.

So why did they keep coming? Where they really this stupid? Could they not learn this lesson?

He saw that there were more of them now. All bad. All of them bad. He would hunt them down, one by one, till all the badness was destroyed and he could be alone again.

He would start with the strange green eyes. He's see lots of girls with green eyes, and they were pretty, but they were bad too, just like this one. She proved her guilt to him when she crossed the fence. Did she not see his sign? Didn't she see that she was breaking rules? People who broke rules deserved to be punished.

She was strange, she was treated differently, talked differently, dressed differently, but she was bad. She needed to die.

He watched her fall asleep. He growled. That was no good! He hated it when the bad ones fell asleep. He wanted them awake. He wanted them to feel pain, to let them know what they've done was wrong! He waited. He was patient.

A boy came along. He noticed him too. Following the strange green-eyes. This boy would die too.

Jason decided to wait, to see if they did something bad together. The blue and green eyes. They would sin together and they would fall together.

--

I punched Tripp in the face, "Don't you know that it's not nice to sneak up on people?" I snarled.

He fell backward against a tree, "Ow," he whined, "Sorry, but y'know, I was-"

"What?" I growled, "Going to go tell your mates you scared the Monster Girl?"

"No," he smiled, "I've got no friends, sad to say. I was wondering if we could be."

"Be what?" I snapped.

"Friends. Can we be friends?"

I laughed, "You want to be my friend after I right hooked you? Good one, but you don't want a friend like me."

"And why not?" he persisted. He was a pushy lil bugger, I'd give him that.

"You have nice eyes," I admitted to change the subject.

"Thanks Britain," he said, "I dig your accent. So what's your name?"

I scanned Tripp up and down. He was dressed in a dark black tee that read, "Don't Piss off the Voices!" skinny blue jeans, suspenders hanging off his bony hips, and a big read and black stripped jacket. I approved of him and his skater boy ways.

"Raven Davis. Formally known as the Monster Girl."

He smiled crookedly and laughed., "Well, you're not like any monster I've ever had hide in my closet."

"I'm more lethal that way," I growled happily, "C'mon, I'm starving. They might serve little kids for lunch!"

--

"Alright people!" yelled out my counselor, Mr. Atherton, or Andy as she preferred, as we were at the edge of a trail, "We got to get going if you guys want to get back before dark!"

A few girls giggled behind me and Tripp, "Yeah, or else Jason will come get us!"

"Or maybe the monster girl will turn into a vampire," said the all-too-familiar voice of Dean behind me.

I ignore him, "Who's Jason?" I asked.

Tripp answered, "He's just an old scary story."

We began our walk, me and Tripp silently taking the back.

"I like scary stories. Spill."

Tripp took a breath, "Alright, did you know that this place is nicknamed Camp Blood? It's the first time it's been open in several years."

He paused and looked for any signs of fear on my face. He didn't find any and continued, "Well, sometime back in the 50's, this place was thriving. Every kid wanted to be here. And the head cook, Pamela Voorhees, had this kid named Jason. He wasn't - right in the head, and the other kids picked on him."

Jason Voorhees. The name sounded weird enough. I wonder who came up with these things. Like a name could be scary. Like Jason could be scarier than any other simple name- like Michael or Freddy. Anyway…

"One day, Jason went out to the lake to go swim. Pamela was always worried about him, the kid couldn't swim very well, and she asked the counselors to keep an extra careful eye on him. Coincidental enough, once the counselors decided to get friendly with each other, Jason started drowning. By the time anyone noticed, it was too late and Jason was dead."

I bit back a need to cry slightly. How anyone could stand and let a poor innocent kid drown was beyond me, but Tripp continued.

"Pamela went crazy, and got this place shut down. A couple years later the place reopened and new counselors were let in. to put a long story short, Pamela went ape-shit crazy on their asses and slaughtered 'em, but not before the last one hacked her head off."

"Shit," I muttered, "No fucking way. So Mommy dearest did all the dirty work huh?"

Tripp smiled, "Did I say I was finished?"

"There's more?" I asked excitedly, "Tell us more then love!"

"Well," Tripp began again, "With Pamela gone, it wasn't until a few years later that this place opened again. Along with a fresh batch of new counselors. They died too, but it wasn't Pamela. It was good ol' Jason."

"Jason?" I frowned at the twist, "How does that work?"

"It's a plot hole okay? Bear with me here. Now, I would be a tad ticked off if some ditzy teenagers caused my death, fine, I could handle that, but what set Jason off was the death of his mother. Rumor has it that he kept her head and hunted down the girl that cut it off. She's dead now too. And Jason's out there still. Waiting for someone to cross his path. They say he's fuckin huge! Really big and really strong. Could tear off your arms with his bare hands. But he always prefers the machete for his kills. He makes SURE that if never leaves his side. He's all rotted and bluish too. Like a zombie, so he wears a hockey mask to hide his face. Maybe the kid side of him though it'd look cool, but if you see a pissed off goalie running around with a big ass knife instead of a hockey stick, I'd run like hell and wouldn't look back."

"Dully noted," I mumbled at him.

"C'mon guys!" yelled Andy, "Let's go! We've got a lot of ground to cover today!"

The scenery was nice. Birds twittered on their branches and the sun turned the sky on fire. So me and Tripp walked in silence for the rest of the hike, my mind dwelling on Jason, was their another part of this story? I wouldn't know, but the story alone was enough to send chills down my spine.

And that's when I noticed something…..

--

"Tripp, I think we MIGHT be a little lost," I spat out at him.

"No we're not," he chuckled, "We're still on the trail, see?"

The trail under my feet was dark brown, and grass covered most of it so it was barely visible.

"Shit head, out trail was grey! We wandered off somewhere else!"

I guess I was in denial, because Tripp suddenly asked in a sultry way, "Well, if we ARE all alone…"

"Shut up," I snapped, "There's something in the bushes over there."

"Probably and animal," he grumbled, and went to reach my arm. I pulled away defensively.

"Animals don't moan," I said bitterly and peeked over. Yep, my suspicions have been confirmed. A couple decided to sneak away and have a little fun with each other. Super fuckin do.

"Perfect. Oh fucking beautiful," I looked anyway and snarled, "We're lost."

Tripp seemed put out by the sexing couple, when I noticed he looked slightly nervous.

"I heard a twig snap," he stuttered.

"It's probably the animals," I hissed, gesturing the romping pair.

"Not….it's not-" and he looked over again and paled, "Shit!" he whispered harshly, "Keep your head down and don't move!"

"What?" I said trying to peek over, but pulled me down.

"Wha-?"

"PISSED OFF GOALIE!" he whispered violently.

That caused me to remain still, my lips pursed in a harsh line, shit no fucking way! That THING was right there, RIGHT NEXT TO US!

I started to shake.

Tripp gave me a look, "If we die," he said simply and leaned over to peck my lips.

Before he got the chance, I slapped him, "NOW. is. NOT. the. TIME!" I snarled.

He dropped that kind smile, "Enough of this shit, Bitch, I've been working you for awhile, and now I want something to show for it!"

He lunged at me, and I kicked him away. Hard. "HOW 'BOUT A SHOE MARK YOU ASSHOLE!"

Tripp hit the opposite tree. Dear Doc Martins God. Thank you for your hardness-like intervention of this wanker. THANK YOU DOC MARTINS GOD OF THUNDER AND LEATHER AND LACES!

When he hit the ground, I hopped to me my feet and I ran. I ran like my ass depended on it.

Jason or no Jason, I was going to get away from this place as fast as I could.

I may or may not have screamed something along these lines, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I was sprinting, jumping, and screaming, and I looked back to see if Tripp was following.

Little fucker was one of THEM all along! How could I be so stupid? I judged him because of how he looked; I was no better than the people who judged me.

I ran into something and it knocked the lights out of me. I fell back into the muddy ground and looked up to see what it was that I had run into.

The Scream was pushed back into my throat and I gazed up at him, stunned.

Jason wasn't back there with Tripp and the couple.

Jason was HERE! With ME!!

Of all the fucking luck!

He tilted his head curiously, like he was examining the strange animal before him. I was dripping full of mud, and I remained still.

Maybe he was like a bee or something. As long as you remained still it wouldn't hurt you.

Oh fuck that! This was not a bee! People don't get killed by bees! This guy was like…. Killer horses! Now that's scary shit.

I wanted to run, wanted to escape. But I was frozen, staring at his humongous body. What Tripp said was an understatement. This guy was monstrous! He would catch me in no time! It'd be no problem for him! I eyed his machete, and the old blood encrusted on the sheath. And his mask. That interested me the most. It was scratched and burned and cracking in many places. I vaguely wondered what that mask protected.

It wasn't until several moments of us staring at each other did I realize I was shaking. I was scared. Horrified. I prayed for something to make him ignore me. But he just KEPT STARING! There was a crack and I didn't dare look behind me. I heard laughing. I heard Tripp's voice.

They were coming back. They were coming HERE!

I wanted to shout. To warn them. Tell them to get away. But I was still frozen.

Jason wasn't. he looked u and tightened his clench on his weapon.

That was enough for me.

I shot up and ran for England.

Tears brimmed down my eyes as I heard their screams.

--

He was hunting.

They were all gathered together, walking the open trail. And the green and blue eyes in the back.

It would be so easy to take them. He waited, silently stalking his unaware prey. He would have them show their guilt first. Mommy always motivated him more when they showed their guilt.

He heard his name, and began to listen.

Jason followed closely behind, listening to the blue eye's story. Funny how things sounded from someone else. A small story passed down from families. It wasn't the whole story. No one ever knew the whole story.

He watched them as they wandered away. He didn't bother to stay close. He could hear the, the green eye's voice traveled.

He heard her swear, which made him mad. He heard what the boy said, which made him angrier. He was preparing to go off to tear off their limbs when he saw the green eyes running toward him. She looked as pissed as Jason was.

Jason waited to see how she reacted with him. The bad ones always acted guilty.

She slammed into him and bounded off, landing in the mud. She seemed shocked. That was understandable. She was covered in filth and he would seem quite big to her.

She was tiny, to him anyway. He liked her face. It was very pale, and really clear. No marks on it except for the golden freckles sprinkled lightly on her face like gold dust. Her lips were a pale red, like a little rosebud. And her hair was curly, long, and a pretty color Jason never seen before. A gold with a tinge of rust-red. She was dressed in dark colors, which heightened her own color. And her grayish-green eyes, flecked with yellow.

She was stained with dirt, but Jason rather it be blood. He wanted to see the deep red clash and mix with the pale white, and twist in her hair until I it became tough. He wanted to see her eyes open, and dead, her lips stained with blood.

The girl was very still, like a frightened animal. She didn't run, or fight. She just stared.

He heard the crack behind her and saw the boy, the blue-eyes, with another half-naked boy and girl. The blue-eyes had hurt his little green-eyes. Boys never hurt the girls they were with. Ever. They did bad things with them, but they never made their girls cry.

When Jason lifted his eyes up, the green eyes shot up and ran. Jason had a tugging suspicion that she was running form him, but he went back to the new arrivals.

Maybe she wasn't running from him. Maybe she was running from the one who had hurt her.


	3. Midnight Dance

Chapter 3 Midnight Dance

Eventually I made it back to camp. Eventually, so did Tripp. He led the counselors and the police back to the bodies. I remained at camp, nobody ever found out I had met up with the killer beforehand. I felt scared. Like Jason was going to come back for me. I knew I would have nightmares tonight. I could've died today.

I called my mother to set my mind at ease.

"Hey, sweetheart. How are you?"

"I'm fine," I stammered, "How's the decorating?"

"Boring," she sighed, "But I'll finish, promise. So, you meet any cute boys yet? Anyone you want to bring home?"

I laughed, "No mum. I don't really have a thing for the Hollister boy type."

"You're so picky!" My mother laughed, "Well, you'll find a guy for you pretty soon. There's someone for everyone."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, "Mother, why didn't we move somewhere else? Like…. Springwood of something."

"Because Springwood isn't anywhere near a beautiful place like this."

"That's the point," I muttered under my breath.

"What? Didn't catch that." she asked.

"Doesn't matter," I said quickly and hung up.

--

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the departure of Patricia Monroe and Richard Lane…."

It was a windy day today. And cold. There was no burial here. Just a boring funeral everyone was forced to attend.

No one believed Tripp's story about the Pissed off Goalie killer. No one ever will. Except me, and the dead couple.

Whispers of Jason hit my ears, no matter how skeptic people were. Rumors circling around a ghost, or a copycat. The people who viciously hated me said I was in HIS league. Including Tripp, who encouraged that particular rumor. Even though I considered him a total Wanker and a Grade A Pain in the Butt, it still hurt.

I finally cut my hair for the occasion. I did it in the privacy of my cabin with kitchen shears and a mirror. It was shorter, not much, and spikier with more layers. The picture on the magazine called it 'Scene Hair," I called it a total mess. The girl looked cute and mysterious, I looked gothic, minus black hair.

I was dressed in a simple black dress, black Capri stockings, and black converse all stars, the only make-up I had was light ashy eye shadow.

During the middle of the service, I saw him at the edge of the forest. Watching us.

Hunting us.

It was unnerving.

--

"Emo," Tripp told me during lunch.

"Wanker," I replied.

"Goth"

"Twat"

"Vampire"

"Shit head"

"Psycho"

"Fucker"

"Bitch"

"Man-whore."

Tripp smiled, "I've got to hand it to you sweetie. You come out fighting, don't you?"

"Damn straight," I said through gritted teeth.

Tripp smirked," I guess you think I'm lying don't you? That Jason isn't real?"I sneered at him, "No, I believe you. I saw him after all."

He arched his eyebrows, and I KNEW he practiced that move in the mirror, "Really?"

"Really," I smiled, "He isn't THAT scary."

"Funny. Jason's known for slaughtering stupid bitches like you."

"Well, I'm still alive aren't I?"

Tripp glared smugly at me, and I knew he had caught my lie. About the scariness bit. Jason was fucking scary as shit.

"Well, me and a couple of my MATES," he mocked my accent, "Are heading over to the Voorhees cabin. Wanna join us? We need a brave heart."

I should've said no. I KNEW I should have said no. but my cocky attitude got the better of me and I said, "Sure," before I could stop myself. And to my utter horror, I added, "Just make sure none of your big boys come crying to me for their Mommy's."

"Alright," Tripp said, "We'll be looking forward to it."

I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back.

I heard a chuckle come out from behind me, but I turned and all I met was an empty window.

--

I dressed for stealth that night.

Because you KNOW, the first one to die in the woods is the person that wears bright clothing.

They were so visible, you could go blind staring at them. If you wore black, you increased your chances of escaping.

I was in a black long sleeve, a black sweater with my hood pulled up, black pants, and my black Docs, low tops.

They laughed when I showed up, but I ignored them, grabbing a flashlight but not bothering to turn it on.

"Ready Monster Girl?" said Dean's familiar voice. He was the only preps in a sea of skater boys, Tripp's crew, but he didn't want to pass up a chance to scare the Monster Girl.

"Ready when you are love," I smiled.

There was seven of us, including me.

Tripp hurriedly said their names: Claude, Nate, Matt, and Shy. They nodded in approval of me. I shrugged my shoulders silently wishing I brought a bat for protection. At least I had the flashlight. Maybe I could blind 'em.

We began our search.

--

It wasn't long before we found what we were looking for. We dimmed our lights just in case the behemoth was home.

"Ow!" uttered someone in the darkness.

"What?" we all whispered.

"Stubbed my toe. It's nothing."

"Shit, keep it down."

"You hear that?"

"Fuck it. Shut up!"

"I heard something."

"Shut the hell up or else I'll shove my flashlight where the sun don't shine," I snarled at them.

We reached the abandon cabin in silence.

--

"Casa La Voorhees!" Tripp sing-songed triumphantly.

"Don't celebrate yet," I warned, "He could come back."

"Oh yeah?" one of the boys said snidely, "Well don't you worry about it girlie. We'll protect you."

"It's not me I'm worried about," I sneered, "I can protect myself."

"Oh really?" Tripp laughed, "What did you call your last move? 'Running away in idiot terror?'"

His friends cackled and I said coolly, "No," and I grinned, "I call it 'Kicking an asshole into a tree.' Don't you remember that one?"

His friends hooted with laughter.

--

"What do we do if the fucker comes home anyway?" Dean asked.

Tripp smiled, "It wouldn't be hard to elude him. Zombie doesn't have enough brainpower to read Sam I Am."

"Does he have enough brainpower to disembowel people?" I asked, "Cause he seems pretty good at that. You shouldn't underestimate him."

"Are we a serial killer expert now?" Tripp asked.

"No, it's just common sense. Haven't you ever seen a horror movie? Hey even have a list: Rules to Surviving a Horror Movie."

"Such as…" Tripp challenged.

I flopped onto the dusty couch, "Oh, Don't go to a place with a history of violence, don't hang out at the serial killer's home, don't have sex, don't go out at night, if someone dies you should leave…." I droned, "We're all going to die most likely."

"You have a cheery personality," Tripp mocked, "Hey, who brought the bong? I need a break from reality,"

"Don't do drugs. That's another rule."

Someone unzipped a backpack and brought out a joint and lighter, "You want the first puff Monster Girl?"

"No way. You're not lighting up in here crack-head," I scolded, "What if Wayne Deadski catches us with it? We're as good as gone."

Dean chuckled, "As if the freak could figure out what it is anyway."

"I think he'll notice it when his house smells like an ass. Then he'll be pissed. You light it, and I'm gone."

Tripp picked up the lighter and flicked it on, "So can you get your little miss undead ass out of here now?"

I snarled and turned to flounce away, the couch picking up dust. It made me sick. Next time I'm kicking down Jason's door with cleaning supplies and scrubbing this place till it squeaks, even if Jason manages to wedge a knife into my skull.

That's when I tripped and fell on my face. The others laughed. "What the hell?" I shined my light on what I fell over.

I screamed.

--

"It's a fucking arm!" I shrieked, shining the light on the floor.

"Holy shit!" someone gasped.

"Oh fuck!"

"An arm! A goddamn arm!"

I jumped up and ran to the door. No way in hell I was sticking around.

"NO! that's the clos-" someone warned me, but it was too late.

Bodies. There was dead bodies behind this door. Body parts and heads and naked girls and half-dressed boys and they rotted with open eyes and scared faces. And the smell was HORRENDOUS!

I let out a wordless shriek and dashed towards the real door, hearing the boys follow after me. Now that we shined out lights, we saw what the other boy stubbed his toe on.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

All dead.

We were so fucked.

--

"Run! Just keep running!" I instructed at the half-shocked boys.

We continued toward the forest. Tripp and Dean hot on my trail. They couldn't keep up. I was smaller and skinnier, and a natural outdoorsy girl. I was used to this. They weren't.

I heard a voice in the distance.

"Shit! Where's Claude?! Claude! Where are you!?"

"That's Nate," Tripp informed me.

"Tell the fucker to keep it down! He's going to get us killed!" I snarled.

"I can't even see him! He's too far away!"

"Then let's go get him," I shined me light into the forest, to the source of Nate's shouting.

"Claude! Claude! Claude, is that….? CLAUDE!"

Silence.

It made Tripp nervous, "Nate! You shit, is that you?"

Nothing.

"Look, Dean pointed at the floor.

A couple of feet away, there was a white LP shirt on the forest ground.

Those are always the first to be left behind.

"Nate," Tripp stammered.

I backed away.

"He's watching. We got to get out of here."

"Fuck you!" Tripp snarled, "I'm not leaving till I find Nate and Claude. And Matt and Shy. Where ARE those ass-holes?"

I punched Tripp and grabbed the cloth of on his shoulders.

"Listen to me you Pathetic waste of a human. Nate is DEAD. And if we don't move, we'll meet him in Hell. Soon. Most likely, the others are alive, because Jason. Is. HERE."

I let him fall to the ground and gave Dean a look. One or the other.

He followed.

And we left Tripp in the darkness.

--

Where's the path?" I stammered, scared shitless.

We should've been back by now. We should've been back by now. We should've been back by now. We should've been-

There was a crunch of leaves.

"Shit who's there?" Dean asked.

"NO!" I gasped too late. Something whizzed in the air and impaled Dean's shoulder. He cried out and his blood rained on me. I cried out and saw Dean was basically nailed to a tree. He let out a wrenching sound and began to scream in pain.

I rushed over to his side, eyeing the huge machete, and Dean's gushing blood. He was here. He was going to kill us. We were going to be stuffed in his closet to rot with the rest of them.

I looked out for him in a second, and I went back to Dean. He was stuck and looking very sick.

I grabbed the hilt, "This is going to hurt," I said. He whimpered feebly.

"I'll count to three, okay?" he nodded, and I tightened my grip.

"THREE!" I shouted and wrenched the machete out of his flesh.

He cursed so fluently it would have made a sailor blush.

"What happened to one and two, bitch?" he snarled.

"Not enough time you baby. C'mon, we've gotta run."

But we didn't have enough time to do that. Because Jason was before me. His right arm outstretched. I looked at the weapon in my hands.

He wanted his machete back.

I shook my head.

He looked angry and took a step forward.

I took a leap of faith and chucked the knife as far as I could throw it, grabbed Dean's hand (much to his protest) and ran again. I was doing so much running I would be physically fit by the end of the summer.

If I lived to see the rest of the summer.


	4. Lived and I Died

Chapter 4 Lived and I Died

He was asleep in the cellar when he heard them. They were above. In the upper part. That made Jason angry. He walked up and peered through the crack from the door. There was seven of them. Six boys and the strange green eyes girl. She had broken into his home. She HAD to die.

One of the boys brought something Jason didn't recognize. But his mother did. She shrieked her instructions to him in his head. She was always with him. He was never alone.

'KILL THEM JASON!' she cried, 'KILL THEM! THEY'RE BAD! THEY USE THAT BECAUSE IT'S BAD! KILL THEM! KILL FOR MOMMY!'

Jason nodded his head and set out to do the only thing he could do for his mommy. Kill.

He was about to move in when he heard the Green-eyed Girl shout her protest, " No way. You're not lighting it up in here crack-heads."

She looked mad at them, liking a scolding mother.

--

Amazingly enough, me and Dean made it back to camp, and the first thing we did was scream to wake up the counselors, "JASON'S HERE! JASON'S HERE! HE KILLED THEM. HE KILLED THEM ALL!"

--

"So you expect us to believe," the officer told us, "That a dead man wearing a hockey mask killed your little friends?"

I growled, "I don't give a damn what you believe. They're dead. Dean's shoulder is proof. The house full of DEAD CORPSES is proof. But if you don't want to believe what's right under your nose, that's fine by me. But I want to go home. I need to leave this place before that THING hacks off my head and puts it on his mantel, OK?"

The cop smiled, "It's funny," he said, "But it seems we can't find a file on you Ms….?"

"Davis. Raven Annabelle Davis. And that's because I used to live in London. That explains enough for you? Or do I get to stick around for your fascinating explanation that makes me the knife wielding psychotic killer?"

"You catch on quick don't you?" he chuckled.

"I can do a lot of things. Just 'cause I look like a freak doesn't mean I'm stupid. Now, can I call my mother, or do you want to stick around to make sure I don't strangle someone with the telephone cord?"

--

"Mom?" I asked timidly, "Are you up?" and I could've slapped myself. Of course she was up. She picked up the phone!

"Almost," she murmured, "Mind you telling me why you're calling so late honey? Something wrong?"

"Kinda," I said and sighed a little, "Mom, don't freak, but I think I'm being accused of murder."

"Excuse me while I freak, but can you back up there? You're being accused of WHAT?!?!" she freaked, "How did this happen? Tell me everything! And leave nothing out!"

So I started at the beginning. And I cried throughout the whole thing, experiencing the dreadfulness of the whole trip all over again.

I just wanted to go home. Back to our small flat at Tottenham Court Road, with Sainsbury's down the street and Lyra and Morgan's cute little houses in Seven Dials, Montpellier Villas in Brighton. When I finished, I asked the question I dreaded knowing the answer too:

"Do you believe me?"

There was silence at the other end, and finally static from her sigh, "Well, some points are a bit sticky, and others are just outright outrageous, but of course I believe you. You're my daughter."

I sighed with relief and happiness, and then my mother added, "I'm driving over right now to pull you out of that hell whole. So pack your things love."

Bless her little heart.

--

I was packing my tutu in the suitcase when a knock interrupted me. A long haired brunette looked down at me.

"Where's Tripp?" she hissed at me.

I frowned at her. God, I so didn't have time for this.

"He's dead. Jason killed him," and I tried to slam the door in her face, but she grabbed it and shoved it open.

"Where's Tripp?" she scowled again.

"Didn't you hear me? Are you dysfunctional or something? He's DEAD. DEAD."

And she growled in a threatening way, "I KNOW you know where my brother is, so you're going to tell me you stupid bitch!"

She lunged at me, fingernails raised. I grabbed her wrists and kneed her in the face. Hell yeah! I knew how to cut a girl down to my size. Eventually.

She shot up again and made an attack on my hair, her fingernails trying to scratch the sides of my face. I reached behind me to grab the lamp on my bedside. Once I curled my fingers around the stand, I hit her on the head. Hard.

She fell to the floor, unconscious. You might consider my tactic cheating, but in order to win you must take every opportunity to win. No one could judge me. You see a chance and you fucking for it! That's how you survive.

I finished packing things and left the door open to my cabin. Someone'll find her eventually. Right now my only concern was getting my ass home.

--

"Sorry ma'am. But we're not letting anyone leave this camp. We're running an investigation here. Two kids are dead and five are missing. There's nothing you could do to take your kid out of here."

He tried reasoning with my mother. He tried calming my mother. He tried out his authority on my mother. But when it comes to her only daughter, there was no stopping that women.

"Listen here you," she hissed, "That's MY child your talking about. And I'll be damned if I was going to leave her here to get killed. Now, I'd be more worried of evacuating all these kids out of here and catching that Goddamned Serial Killer hiding out in the bloody woods! If not, I'd tell your boss to get a new shipment of body bags because the only way these poor kids will leave this place after your 'Investigation' is in one!"

My mother grabbed my bag and my hand and huffed out of the Counselor's Office.

"Ma'am please, we have reason to believe-"

"That what?" she snarled. If looks can kill, my mother's glare would have been fatal, "Are you going to stand there and tell me my DAUGHTER is behind this? What is it about her that makes your blood chill Officer? Her scrawny arms or her Doc Martins? I BOUGHT them for her! Did you know that?"

"I-uh…."

"And FUTHERMORE!" my mother hissed, "I'd investigate these other yahoos at camp. Did you see what they wrote on her DOOR?!"

The officer was rendered speechless, and my mother and me made it to the car with no interference.

--

Our car ride was silent.

"You start school in a month," my mother broke the silence.

A month. Has it really been that long? Aside from the terror, I couldn't remember anything else then my stay at Camp Crystal Lake. Wait….

"We're not moving?"

My mother sighed, "Sweetheart, we just MOVED into out house. You'll love the town. I promise."

"No!" I shouted, "Mother, we need to get as far away from Camp Crystal Lake and Jason Voorhees as possible! This place isn't safe." I grabbed her arm and pleaded with her, "Mother, please, we have to leave this place. I won't be able to sleep at night thinking he's going to climb into my window. He already knows what I LOOK like mom. He's going to come LOOKING for me. Please."

She sighed, "Give me two months to save enough money to move back to Brighton."

I lied down into my seat and slouched in defeat. Two months. I needed to survive two months.

--

He watched her leave. His mother was furious. No one was allowed to leave his home alive.

She left with a flighty looking woman that didn't look like her. Except for the freckles, those were the same.

The woman was very tall, almost as tall as he was, and really skinny but very curvy. She had honey blonde hair, and dark brown eyes. She was dressed in baggy dark green pants and a thin long sleeve white shirt.

The green eyes called the woman, "Mum," and "Kat."

Jason concluded the woman was the green-eye's mother.

Jason never saw the mothers of the victims he killed. Most of them, sometimes boys, prayed for their mothers, but their mother's never came.

Jason watched as the woman bent down to kiss the girl's cheek, and he flooded with warmth. This mother came back to help her child. The only mother to come back.

Jason began to follow.

--

Our house was a small two story home, with a big balcony and a porch. It was painted a darkened grey, faded and worn through time. The trees covered the house protectively. It was almost invisible from down the street.

I loved it instantly. The grass and bushes were wild. There was no symmetry in this place. I think I could survive here.

"It's not much but it's home," My mother sighed, "Go on. You room is the one next to the balcony."

--

My things were unpacked. My furniture out. Posters of bands and movies I loved on the wall. My books unpacked. My CD's propped on top of each other next to the radio.

Computer plugged in. phone connected. Bed made. Just a few items packed in tow boxes stacked in the corner of the room.

For once, my life was neat. In order. No chaos. Focused.

I flopped on top of the bed and drifted off into nothingness.

--

Two weeks! I had two weeks of blissful ignorance, pretending I never met a fucking serial killer. But of course, life started to catch up to me and it went on its harrowing mission on reminding me my life will never be normal.

--

I was busy cleaning out the attic when I heard a clatter downstairs. I went down to inspect the noise, bandana, shorts, Capri stockings, tank top, and converse clad, with a bucket and sponge for protection. Caterina was in town grocery shopping, trying to clear her head after this horrible row we had the previous night. She tried to convince me to stay here for another month. I was against it, because it'll be another month and another until I'm stuck here.

Anyway, I was an idiot and went to see what the noise in MY house was, when you're supposed to call the blooming police. I took the earphones out of my ears and left my iPod on the counter. I was a little embarrassed. I usually sang out loud and my friends politely told me I didn't have the best voice. I had a nice pair of lungs though, because once I saw the behemoth standing in the living room with his head almost touching the ceiling, I screamed a wordless shriek and ran towards the back door like a fucking gazelle. I was actually hopping over furniture. I'm very, very gazelle like when I'm afraid.

He got to me in seconds just as my fingertips grazed the handle. I shrieked with protest and passed out.

Darkness was better than whatever he had for me.


	5. And You're Not Even Scary

Chapter 5 And You're Not Even Scary

I was awake. I blinked and found that I was awake. Holy crap I was alive. I shut my eyes. Maybe if I pretended this was just a horrible nightmare, I would wake up in my flat in Brighton. Maybe I could just shut my eyes forever and live the lie.

No dice, because the Hockey Killer stopped being patient and poked my side. It was cute, in a weird sort of way. Weren't serial killers supposed to hurl you across the room when you didn't do what they said? This guy could definitely do that. So I was nice and let my eyes flutter open.

He was enormous, filling my sightline. I guess the night didn't do him justice. I was the transfixed on this man, and I slowly sat up on my bed (how did he know this was my room?!?) and he sat on a chair he had taken from the living room. It creaked with protest but the chair held. I finally got to get a good look at my stalker.

He was big, yes, but not fat. There was not an ounce of fat on this man, just muscle. His skin was a mixture of shy blue, and small wiry hairs were the only thing he had atop his head. If you squinted, you could see faint, worn scars on the sides of the face his mask covered, on his neck, going down to his chest. He was dressed in lots of tattered, old clothing and a dirty jacket. It smelt of dirt, years, and old blood, mixed with water and wood. The machete was set down on my bedside table, so I could look at the powerful hands. They were ashy-blue too, and worn and scarred.

I finally realized that I was staring at him all this time, so I spoke up.

"Ja-Jason Voorhees?" I stammered. It took me by surprise. I never stammered, or stuttered, or said in a shaky voice, for that matter.

He nodded once.

Alright. So far so good. Now I needed to find out what he wanted from me. As if he read my mind, he outstretched his hand and dropped something in my lap. An iPod. MY iPod. How did he even know what it was? All this sudden knowledge irked me, considering everyone made him out to be a blundering idiot, but everyone also made me out to be a gothic satanic worshipper that probably slaughtered puppies in my basement as a sacrifice to Satan, so I discounted what the Sear's catalogue kids told me about him and stuck to what was happening now.

He made a gesture with his hands that pointed to his ears and my lips. A thought struck me.

He had heard me SING.

He wanted me to sing for HIM.

I blame you, Priscilla Ahn.

--

Singing in front of him was the most unbelievable experience I had the misfortune to participate in. I stammered and blushed and stumbled over lines. He tilted his head curiously, got up, turned his chair around and sat down, facing the wall.

I gasped in shock. The gesture was almost sweet. He knew I was nervous and embarrassed, and he probably thought I was having 'Stage Fright', ignoring the fact that I was singing to a serial killer.

So I started up again, singing 'Lies' by Evanescence, and continued to 'Worn Me Down' by Rachael Yamagata. And for the first time, I was never worried about how I sounded to other people. Jason continued to stare fixedly at the wall, making no movement at all that I suspected he had fallen asleep.

I had just finished 'Face Down' by The Red Jump Suit Apparatus when I got up from my bad to go get a drink of water. My mouth was parched.

He got up immediately, blocking my exit. I pointed at my throat, 'Thirsty." he nodded and let me pass. I smirked unknowingly, he reminded me as a gate keeper or something. When I returned I piped up enough courage to ask him: "Can you write?"

He shrugged his shoulders, so I went to go get a pencil and paper for him. The pencil snapped in his hands. I got a pen. That broke too.

After we cleared up the ink blotch mess, I went into my two boxes of fun for the giant pencil I had bought and used once for as April Fool's Day Prank. (You don't wanna know.)

He held it awkwardly, but it suited him.

I sat down before him, and asked, "Why do you like my singing?"

This was his response: PRITY. In sloppy writing. And the 'R' was backwards.

I continued as if nothing was wrong, "I'm not that good. Actually I'm really bad. How'd you know where I lived anyway?"

Response: I FALLOHED U.

I frowned, "Why?"

Response: cuz

I smother my impulse to laugh. It was like talking to a little kid. I tried again, "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"EyE THuNK Yur a goOd geL"

I frowned and muttered absentmindedly, "No. Not really. Good girls were pastel skirts and sweaters and are normal. Whereas I'm a social disease and hate good girls."

Then I covered my mouth, because maybe he decided to kill me now. I should have kept my mouth shut.

He scribbled furiously: HaVENT Cen U DO BAD THIngs

I sighed. Alright. He was stubborn. I guess I could live with that. As I was putting the earphones back in my ears he wrote another message:

'Wasts yor nYme?'

The question surprised me a little.

"Raven," I said, "Raven Annabelle Davis."

A part of me had a feeling that he never knew the names of any of his previous victims. For an odd second, the fact reassured me.

'Y U taLk funneh?'

I groaned. He noticed too? I can never win.

"I'm not from around here," I answered, "I used to live in this place called London. Over there, my voice isn't funny, Everyone talks like this."

'Y U cume ere?'

"I live here now."

'No. Y to Lake?'

I sighed, "My mum wanted me out of the way while she got our new house ready for human residence. And she thought I could make friends with the local kids to mellow me out."

'DideNt woRk?"

I shook my head, "No. Apparently people around here don't appreciate black and have a dire need to poke fun at it."

God, what the hell was I doing? Here I am, in my bedroom, having a close to pleasant conversation with a serial killer. What would he care about my clothing choice?

He scribbled again.

'don't LEIK eT moch ethr. MOMMY dunt leik et.'

I frowned, "Thank you Jason. That makes me feel so much better." I bit on my lip. Maybe I had a death wish, that would explain why I was saying things without thinking.

--

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is a little short, but I'll work on completing it as soon as I can. Thank you, all you wonderful, wonderful people for reviewing and faving my story. Makes me go like this - :D So I upload a teaser for you. ^_^ And I also have a character design for Raven. It's on my profile on DeviantArt. my page is listed on my profile here. The Document Manager won't let me post a link straight to the drawing, but if you want to veiw it, it's there.

I like her. She's so pretty and goddamned hard to draw.

ENJOY! 3 CelestialDeth.


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